


white petals under a pale moon

by chimera_cosmos



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Family, Fire Emblem Heroes Book III Spoilers, Fire Emblem Heroes Book IV Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29182260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimera_cosmos/pseuds/chimera_cosmos
Summary: In Ljósálfheimr, Alfonse and the others lose Kiran.Líf is displeased, but his mood spirals into grief when it’sSharenawho decides to comfort him.
Relationships: Líf & Sharon | Sharena
Kudos: 25





	white petals under a pale moon

**Author's Note:**

> this idea was originally conceived before THE TWIST in book iv... so yes, this is technically inaccurate to canon because alfonse is depicted as the real alfonse in this, while in heroes, we now know that is not the case. i finally decided to finish this after seeing poor sharena get shafted in the day of devotion banner. **edit** : wow, a typo in the summary. that is a new record for me.

He recognized this feeling.

The quick sinking of his stomach as it plummeted into dread… The intangible weight of panic resting on his shoulders, its talons piercing through his armor… For as much as he tried to hold them down, he would always be at the mercy of emotions. Apathy guided his blade and cut down those who stood in his path. It was the memories of days long gone that kept him anchored to his sanity.

What raged within him now was a torrent.

Hel robbed him of the future he wanted… but she could not take away his anger.

“I tried,” Alfonse said. Líf gazed back into the eyes that were and weren’t his own. How young and naïve he once was. It was sickening. “I looked, but I couldn’t find her.”

“Where else could she have gone?”

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.” He countered, but his voice lacked the bite that should’ve been there. The moon carved out his face, struggling to mask their shared worry.

A scoff pushed between his lips, Sökkvabekkr’s weight doubling at his hip. “Kiran’s still out there.”

Confusion flickered across Alfonse’s face. “What?”

“I’m going,” and the grass crunched underfoot as he turned.

Alarm lanced through him as Alfonse snagged his wrist. Frustration quickly swept aside the astonishment. His face pinched into a glare and he had half a mind to twist free, maybe drag this little princeling to the ground as he did.

“Going where?” Alfonse demanded, releasing his grip. “You’ll get lost at this hour. It’s dark out—”

“I’ve navigated through darkness longer than you’ve ever had,” he dismissed. “I don’t need your concern.”

“We can look for Kiran tomorrow. We’ll find her – I know it. Besides, what good will it do if another one of us is separated?”

_(As if he had a right to speak to him about ‘separation’…)_

When he tried departing once more, he sensed Alfonse before he felt him. His fingers twisted into his collar, drawing him close in a firm shake. Shock sparked in his eyes, but Líf saw no fear. He supposed that was to be expected; Alfonse was him, and he was Alfonse. The mystery between them had dissolved thanks to Alfonse’s quick deduction in the broken Askr.

This was someone he could no longer intimidate.

But he tried. His mind scrambled for the words that would hurt, that would push him away so Líf could be alone. The longer they stood talking, the faster his ire grew.

“You made a promise,” Líf started, hand tightening. Moonlight splashed onto the white of Alfonse’s collar. “You promised Kiran you wouldn’t let anything happen to her. We’re not a day in Ljósálfheimr and she’s already gone missing.”

Dark satisfaction curled up inside him as a crack split the corner of Alfonse’s façade. It was followed immediately by guilt, but not for Alfonse. Never for Alfonse. It was for himself. Always. Kiran was missing, and Líf still took pleasure out of seeing his past-self struggle to hold onto blind optimism.

Look how far that pure thinking got him…

The adrenaline fled his veins, and he jolted Alfonse back with a firm shove of his fist.

Silence descended upon them. Líf wanted to be anywhere but here.

“I did…” Alfonse said quietly. “I did promise that.”

Líf refused to look at him. “Yes. You did.”

The voice that answered back was not from Alfonse.

“Is this a bad time?” Sharena asked carefully.

In the distance stretching behind her were the tents they had thrown up an hour or two earlier. Her young face was the same as his own Sharena, mirroring the pink-tipped gold of her hair, innocent crystal blue of her eyes. There were times where Líf wondered what his Sharena would’ve looked like… if she had lived.

For all the enemies he slew, none provided a challenge as difficult as this Sharena. To look upon the sister that was not his was to face his failures.

He could scarcely dip his head in acknowledgement before his feet carried himself away. His name hit his back as she called for him to wait, but he did not listen.

Ljósálfheimr was different from Askr and Embla, alive with darkened grass bathing beneath a moon that hung in the backdrop of a purple-pink sky. Small balls of light danced across the field, finding shelter in the blackened bark of trees or among blades of grass. A yawning sea of grass sprinkled with pale yellow and blue flowers sprawled before him, dropping into a cliff with scarves of mist curled at its feet. If someone were not careful, they could’ve easily slipped and plummeted to whatever abyss lay beneath.

Beneath the sky, surrounded by the dark plant life, Sökkvabekkr pulsated in a purple glow. He had no reason to draw it from its scabbard. And yet, he could not let his hand leave the pommel. A habit that had swiftly been drilled into him while he served under Hel.

Loathed as he was to admit, Alfonse was right. Though his eyes had grown adjusted to the blackness of night, his vision could not cut a path straight to Kiran. He wanted to find her – more than he could admit – but without a lead, it was a risk they couldn’t afford to take.

He truly hated the feeling of helplessness, no matter how long he lived in it.

“There you are!”

His heart stuttered in his chest, Kiran’s name floating on the tip of his tongue as he looked over his shoulder…

…Sharena smiled back with a cautious wave. “What’re you doing out here for? Camp’s that way.”

He whipped his head to the side. By his feet was a small, bell-shaped flower, its petals white as the unblemished snow. “Why’re you here?”

“Why?” and he saw out of the corner of his eye how she cocked her head to the side. She always done that; he never realized how much. “Because I was worried about you, of course!”

(‘ _This is not your Sharena,’_ Thrasir had once said, mirroring the warning he’d once given her about Zacharias. ‘ _It may hurt, but we can’t get too close to them._ ’

‘ _I know that._ ’ He’d said.

And that had been the end of it.)

“I can look after myself,” he managed to say, toeing the flower with his pointed boot. “Return to Alfonse. I’ll find my way back to camp on my own.”

“Well, you didn’t go that far to begin with… I thought you would, so that’s why I’m here.”

He would’ve preferred anyone to give chase except Sharena. Even Thrasir. He’d grown used to talking to her over the years, an era spent in dystopia slowly weaving them together not just as allies, but friends. As hard as he tried, he could not bring himself to fully scorn this Sharena either. He could never hate her – no matter which Alfonse she belonged to.

Forcing a wedge between him and this Sharena was nearing impossible. And the blame belonged to him.

“Hey, hey—! You’re going to smoosh it! Stop!”

He froze, blinked at the poor flower that was suffering beneath his constant fidgeting. The pure white was blemished with flecks of dirt, rend to a near-mess.

“Aw, I think you killed it…”

A sliver of guilt wormed through him. “Sorry.”

“Well, it’s… just one flower, I guess,” Sharena said awkwardly. She paused. “Say, what were you and Alfonse talking about?”

His mind zoomed through the events of their unpleasant conversation. He shook his head, preparing to dismiss her when the name fell from his mouth like a stone. “Kiran.”

Sharena’s face fell. “Oh…”

The dejected look was not something he liked seeing. However, he couldn’t assuage her doubts the same way Alfonse could. That bridge had been burned and buried years ago.

“Well…” she struggled for the words too. “There’s always tomorrow, right?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, but the anger he’d felt for Alfonse was not present for Sharena. “You too?”

“Me… too?”

“Alfonse said the same thing.”

“Of course he did!” Sharena said, bounce back in her voice. “We do think alike after all.”

Líf wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wanted to turn around, favoring the seemingly endless fall of the cliff than staring at her face. It was with resignation did he realize this was the longest he’s held a conversation with Sharena. How foolish was it to think he could outrun her when she was _right here_. As close as she was, she could never have been so far.

Thrasir’s warning did little to help him now.

She crossed the distance between them, kneeling to pluck the flower he’d unintentionally smothered. If she was displeased with what he did, she refused to voice it. “I’m worried about her too, you know,” Sharena paused. “Kiran, I mean.”

His shoulders lifted in a weak shrug.

“But Kiran’s strong. Surely you know that.”

What defined ‘strength’, he almost asked. Was it the ability to take down enemy after an enemy? Or was it the willpower that carried them through hardships? Neither one was enough for Kiran – for any of them. In the end, they lost. A load of worth ‘being strong’ got them.

‘ _Kiran was weak_ ,’ he thought bitterly. ‘ _And I was weaker for not being able to save her._ ’

“I noticed you’ve been avoiding me,” Sharena said, but when Líf looked at her, she simply watched as she twirled the flower stem between her fingers. “You don’t have to tell me why. I think I get it.”

“We can’t see into the future. There’s no reason for us to be friendly if I could be sent back to my world at any time. Heroes come and go – it’s always been that way.”

A giggle rumbled her lips, sad and defeated. “Alfonse tells me that all the time. You really _are_ him…”

He couldn’t endure this. “If you’re done here, then leave. I wish to be alone.”

“And how do I know you won’t go off searching for Kiran?” Sharena demanded at his back.

“I won’t,” and he meant it. “You may be right. She’s… strong. We can search tomorrow.”

There was a beat of silence, and Líf was sure she would argue to stay…

“Alright then. But you better keep your word! You’ll miss out on dinner if you don’t.”

She was worried he’d miss a meal? _Really_? “Why does that matter to you?”

Sharena hummed thoughtfully for a second, as if she truly had means to mull over such a question. “Well… You may be Líf, but you’re still Alfonse too. If you remember, you always looked out for me, so I make sure to do the same for you.”

Líf turned on her then, frowning. “I am not the Alfonse you know. He is alive and well waiting for you back at camp. I’m not your brother—”

“—Yes, you are!” she fired back, fists at her side as she accidentally choked out whatever remaining life the flower clung to. “Just because you’re from a different world doesn’t mean we’re not related. And… Well, I know you feel the same! If you didn’t think of me as Sharena, you would’ve attacked me that time. We may come from different worlds, but family never changes.”

He swallowed. Sharena was more than a head shorter, but she towered over him greater than any queen. She shared Alfonse’s optimism – rather, his _own_ optimism now long forgotten and buried.

“I understand if me being around reminds you of your Sharena,” she said softly. “I never want to cause my brother pain – no matter where he comes from. But... if it’s easier, I'll stay out of your way. I just… don’t want you to forget about family. I’ll still make sure you’re eating and taking care of yourself. From a distance.” Sharena tossed aside the shredded remains of the poor plant. “Don’t stay out here too long, okay? I’ll make sure to have food set aside when you come back.”

Her eyes were sad when she glanced up at him. He could reach out to her, put a hand on her shoulder and apologize for being dismissive

( _for letting her die_ )

or he could simply _talk_ instead. But his jaw locked and tightened into silence, and when Sharena began walking away, he knew it was too late. He listened to the grass brushing her legs, the balls of light blinking like the stars above them.

‘ _It’s for the better._ ’ A voice assured in his head sounding eerily like Thrasir. Whether it had been something she’d said a long time ago or his own thoughts, he could not tell. In that moment, he did not care.

“You’ll always be my sister, Sharena,” Líf murmured to the curious ears of the flowers and the wind. “But I can never return to Alfonse.”

When the quiet of night returned, he at last took his leave from the field. The dying embers of their campsite greeted him first. He couldn’t tell which tent belonged to Sharena or Alfonse, but they were the last people he wanted to see.

Alone on a log that sat in the dirt by the fire was a bowl of stew.

As promised.

It was cold on his tongue, slithering down his throat and plopping into his stomach like a stone.

He ate in silence with the foreign world of Ljósálfheimr as company.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you lif for making auto-correct a bitch and for driving me bonkers with changing every-day words such as "cliff" to "cLíff".
> 
> i have more ideas for fe heroes verse that explores the feh ocs from pointless one shots to my current (single chapter atm) one shot collection for kiran & alfonse (platonic and romantic). so if you're interested, feel free to keep an eye out because i adore the potential the world of heroes gives us in terms of crossovers and 'time-travel' shenanigans.
> 
> thanks for reading.  
> ciao.


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